Anonymity
by Lynse
Summary: 'Anonymity is so passé. I know who you are.' Really, what was Randy supposed to think when Debbie texted him that? One-shot.


A/N: Written as a tumblr request and set immediately after _Let Them Eat Cake Fries_. Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

After two hours without rest, Debbie stuck her shovel into the cake batter and sat down to rest her aching muscles; almost everyone else had given up, even though they were doing this for Le Beret.

Le Beret.

Howard Weinerman.

It was…hard…to believe they were one and the same. Le Beret's pranks had been exquisite, all perfectly timed and pulled off without a hitch. Howard had almost drowned them all in cake batter—would have, if the Ninja hadn't baked it in time. She could admire Howard's dedication to the cause, for all that she had seen him and Randy bail on the cleanup effort, but his execution didn't seem up to snuff with Le Beret's.

It was almost as if he wasn't Le Beret and had just been covering for the folk hero.

Debbie frowned, seizing on the idea. She knew Howard was good at pranks—usually—since he and Randy would have a go at each other every once in a while. But for Howard to just be helping Le Beret, that meant the real Le Beret was either Randy or Heidi; no one else would enlist Howard's help. Even Julian or Bucky would turn to a different friend before leaning on Howard, considering it was practically common knowledge that Howard and Randy told each other everything.

Thing was, she already knew it wasn't Heidi. They'd kept in contact on the story too often for her to be able to go radio silent without Debbie noticing. The real question was whether Randy could pull off something like this, albeit with Howard's help.

Granted, he had been the one to rally them together in the first place, suggesting they all rip up Principal Slimovitz's pamphlets without reading them.

And it could have been guilt that had prompted him to act in the cafeteria when he'd realized Slimovitz couldn't swim in batter. A prank gone too far, something he'd felt obliged to right.

She could vaguely recall seeing Howard disappear frequently today—Randy's usual trick—but there were enough times that Randy wasn't accounted for, either. And while she wasn't exactly keen on the idea of Randy being Le Beret, it was easier to believe it of him than of Howard. Randy typically made a terrible show of it—probably an act, come to think of it—but he stood up for people. He could play the hero. And she could easily believe he could inspire people to follow his lead, at least if he was wearing a mask and no one knew his true identity.

Had Howard and Randy sneaked away not to skive off work but to get their stories straight so that no one suspected Randy was the true Le Beret? So that he would be free to act again when Norrisville next needed a hero who wasn't the Ninja?

Debbie smiled. That had to be it. The two of them were good; she'd give them that. She'd nearly missed it. Howard might have been the face of Le Beret, but Randy had been the real hero behind the mask. She'd have to write an article about it. Howard still deserved credit for what he did do, of course—some of which was more impressive than nearly drowning them all—but if she could show that Le Beret's spirit was embodied in both of them, it would make an easier argument that anyone else could step into Le Beret's shoes and fight for what was right.

Next time, it wouldn't be cake fries.

Next time, they weren't likely to get something just as good or better as a replacement.

And next time, someone else might need to step up to be Le Beret, the person they could all rally behind.

Debbie pulled out her phone. She wanted to get this story into the next edition of the NHGTTWDPC (online edition), and if nothing else, she needed a statement from Le Beret. Thanks to Theresa, she had Randy's number. She doubted he had hers, but that wouldn't matter; he'd be curious enough to meet her anyway, and she had no doubt he'd drag Howard with him. Smirking, she sent him a text.

* * *

When Randy's phone beeped, he thought it might be his mom since he was standing next to Howard. "Leave it," Howard said as he popped another chip into his mouth. "If it's actually important, you'd get a phone call. This—" and here he waved a hand at the swamp in front of them "—is more important."

Howard wasn't exactly wrong, even though Randy didn't usually get texts from his mom at this time of day. After realizing how quickly he'd baked the cake batter with the Tengu Fireball, they'd (eventually) talked about the idea of baking mud the same way. He might not always be able to rely on Sandjas for everything, and he kinda liked the idea of being able to basically fire cannonballs at robots. Not that he was sure hitting mud with heat would work, but pottery was basically firing clay, right? There couldn't be much difference.

They'd steered clear of Booray's corner of the swamp (Randy was _not_ going through that again if he could help it) in favour of hiding out closer to where they'd scared the snot out of Doug with the Mudfart story. Howard's job was going to be flinging mud at Randy (he was more enthusiastic about that than strictly necessary), and Randy was going to shoot a fireball at it. Once he figured that part out, he'd work on shifting into the Earth Attack.

The phone beeped again.

"That's just the reminder," complained Howard as Randy pulled out his phone. He crumpled up his chip bag and shoved it into his pocket. "I thought we were—"

"It's not from my mom." The number was local but not one Randy recognized. The message, on the other hand….

 _Anonymity is so passé. I know who you are. Meet me behind the school in half an hour._

Howard pulled the phone out of his hand. "C'mon, Cunningham, are we going to do this thing or not?"

"Howard." The name came out as a croak. Randy wasn't sure his voice was working anymore.

Howard glanced at the phone. "Kang's number," he said. "What's she want?" And, as Randy watched, Howard's eyes went wide. "Oh, man, she's so getting ready to wonk your cheese."

Randy knew Debbie had been investigating the Ninja.

He had not known he'd given her the last pieces of the puzzle.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Howard shrugged and handed back the phone. "Play dumb? Tell her she has the wrong number? Mind wipe her? Prank her? Your call, bro. You're the one who shoobed this up." Perhaps in response to what Randy was sure was a stricken look on his face, Howard added, "Tell you what. Say what you need doing and I'll help you do it. Just remember you'll owe me."

"You borrow money from me all the time!"

"Favours, Cunningham. Favours."

"But you're my best friend!"

"Which is why I'm going to make sure you get the friends and family rate."

"Oh, c'mon, Howard, you've gotta help me. Please."

"So we have a deal?"

Howard wasn't taking this seriously. He must think they could get out of this easily, but Randy wasn't convinced. He was, however, desperate. "Okay, deal. What do I need to do?"

Howard grinned. "First things first. How many smoke bombs have you got?"

* * *

Randy, predictably, was late. Or he'd decided to blow her off. Debbie wasn't sure yet, but she wasn't going to let him succeed in ignoring her. She'd start pestering him _and_ Howard if she had to. (She still hadn't quite forgiven Howard for claiming he knew the Ninja when he didn't or for the million little things he did purposefully to annoy her, and his good actions on Le Beret's behalf hardly made up for any of that.)

Finally, Randy's head poked around the corner of the school. He forced a fake smile on his face and walked toward her, though to her surprise, Howard didn't follow him. "Hey, Debbie, what's up?"

Debbie rolled her eyes. "You can cut the act, you know. I'm not stupid."

Randy blinked at her. "I never said that."

The way he was acting, he didn't have to, but Debbie wasn't going to pursue that point right now. "Look, I'm not in the mood to beat around the bush. I know who you are."

He actually laughed at her. "We-ell, yeah, I'm Randy Cunningham, and we're classmates, and you texted me, so…."

She crossed her arms. "I mean your stint as a masked hero."

Randy opened his mouth, but his response was lost as a smoke bomb went off to her right. Debbie jumped, spinning around to look as the smoke cleared. The Ninja, of all people, leaned against the school. "Someone mention a masked hero?"

Debbie couldn't help it. Her mouth dropped open before she could close it. The Ninja almost _never_ turned up when there wasn't an attack. "Ninja? What are you doing here?" As much as she wanted to figure this out with Randy, she couldn't pass up an opportunity to get the goods on the Ninja.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem inclined to stick around. She could see another smoke bomb in his hand already. "Just checking in on things," he said, winking at them. "Everything looks fine. Bruce job on that cake cleanup; I don't see a thing I can do to help. Smoke bomb!"

Debbie coughed and moved toward Randy to get away from the stink of it. "What was _that_ all about?" she asked, even though she knew he wouldn't have a clue. It was _Randy_ , after all. He might not even have noticed anything suspicious about that. He probably took the Ninja's words at face value, as if he always checked in on them post-fight.

"Sounded to me like he was seeing how much cake was left. Or maybe he was just checking in on one of his number one fans."

Right. As if Randy and Howard were _actually_ the Ninja's number one fans, no matter what they claimed. She'd never even seen the three of them together.

"Still," Randy added, "his appearance kinda wonked your theory, didn't it?"

Debbie frowned. "What theory?"

Randy's unease was instant and genuine. "You know," he said slowly, "the one about me being the Ninja."

Debbie couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.

Randy actually looked alarmed. "Wasn't that what your text meant? That you thought I was the Ninja? That I should own up to you because you figured it out?"

Debbie wiped the tears from her eyes, tried to say something, and just dissolved into laughter again.

"Wait, so what did you really mean?"

"Le Beret," she wheezed in between giggles. "You and Howard."

Randy's look of confusion was thorough and convincing. Maybe she'd been wrong after all. "What?"

Debbie waved him off. "Forget that." She took another beat to try to get her laughter under control before adding, "Why'd you think I thought you were the Ninja?"

"Um." Randy took a step away from her. "No reason." Another step. "Hey, I gotta go. Just remembered I need to throw in a load of laundry. Y'know, after getting cake batter on stuff. Bye!"

He took off before she could say anything, including pointing out that he hadn't even _been_ with the rest of them to nearly get covered in cake batter in the first place. Then again, he had jumped in to save Slimovitz. It might not be as big a lie as it sounded.

Still.

Why _had_ he assumed she thought he was the Ninja?


End file.
